Hey, Pa!
by Golden Lunar Eclipse
Summary: One-shot. A young man pays a visit to his father and grandparents. Rated for torture and murder.


AN – hi all, just a quick word before I start. This is an in-betweener, meaning it is something that I feel JKR left up to our imaginations as to what happened, and I am putting my imagination into full effect. This has to do with an event that was referred to in GoF, Chapter One, "The Riddle House". As usual, I do not own the wonderful world of Harry Potter, nor any of the characters, or GoF, and what I have written here is just my interpretation of Rowling's work. I hope you enjoy!

Hey, Pa!

It was late afternoon in the small English town. The villagers were beginning to pack up and go home for the evening. A young man, in his late teens or early twenties, was walking along a road just on the edge of the town. He had dark hair and dark eyes that matched his dark outfit of robes, and was not from around there, but no one seemed to pay him any notice. He came to the foot of a hill, upon which stood a grand house. It was owned by a rich, snobby couple and their good-for-nothing, arrogant son. No one in the town liked them very much, not even their gardener, Frank Bryce; although _he_ didn't like anyone much at all.

The young man stopped to look at the house. He stood there, contemplating for a few moments, then disappeared, as if he hadn't even been there an instant before. No one saw this, however, and therefore, nothing seemed out of the ordinary for the town folk, who continued on in their every day lives.

Later that night, after dusk had long faded, the family of the grand house was sitting at dinner, enjoying proper conversation as they nibbled at their food. They were unaware of a dark figure approaching their abode, unaware of his intentions, unaware of the danger they would soon discover to be in themselves.

The dark man approached the door and whispered a strange word. The door unlocked itself and he entered quietly, black robes that he wore, billowing behind him. He stepped into the dining room, muttering an incantation.

The family that sat at the table reacted in surprise. The woman screamed and clapped her hands to her mouth. The son gasped and looked to his aged father. The man stood up in outrage and yelled in a cranky and demanding voice, "Who are you? Get out of my house!!!"

The young man looked at each member of the family in turn. He was not deterred by the elder's outburst. There was something about the look in his eyes that made the family _very_ uncomfortable. His gaze stopped on the eyes of the son. He stared, transfixed, and very slowly, almost lazily, he said, "Hello, _Father_. Remember me?"

"W-who are you?" the other questioned tentatively.

"Oh. You don't remember me. How disappointing," he said sarcastically. "Then again, I couldn't have expected you to… I didn't expect much from you in the first place – you filthy Muggle!"

"What did you call me?" retorted the middle-aged man with a flash of anger.

"Oh, you do have an aggressive side; that explains where I got it from."

The stranger walked towards the family calmly and in a dilatory manner.

"However, I do believe the blood of Salazar Slytherin runs in me stronger. Do you know the story of Salazar Slytherin?" Without waiting the man continued. "He was one of the founding fathers of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He believed that only those of pure blood were suitable to learn at the institution. Pureblooded people are complete wizards; I highly doubt that my great-great-great-many-generations-back-grandfather would be approving at all of non-wizard blood, such as your own, _dirty Muggle_. In any case, _I_ do not accept it."

The young man shifted his gaze to take in the rest of the room and he began to walk around. He spotted a photograph on a shelf, turned his back to the family, and went towards it for a better look. He was about to pick it up when the eldest man in the room spoke up.

"Now see here! I don't know who you are or why you're here, but I want you out of my house, this minute!"

The young man shut his eyes in irritation and announced, "I don't take orders very well, something we need to get straight right now. I also do not believe you are in any position to be making demands." To prove his point, he took out a wooden stick that had been concealed from the family, turned around and pointed it at the head of the house. Hatred seemed to cross his face while the rest of him remained calm. The old man suddenly yelped in pain and grabbed his hand as if he had just stuck it in boiling water. The pain subsided as the expression of anger evaporated from the trespasser's face.

"Now it is understood that I am in control here," said the youngest person in the room. "Sit down," he lifted his stick again, made a falling motion with it, then returned it to its hidden place among his robes. The sweeping motion was imitated by the old man, who promptly sat down without willing to do so. "Finish your dinner and listen up. I am only going to say this once; my mother gave me a name," he turned around to examine the picture again. "That was the only thing she did for me before she died. My middle name, Marvolo, after her father. My first and last names from the man she _loved_; Tom Riddle."

The family that sat attentively was shocked by this news. Both parents turned to look at their son, Tom Riddle Sr. He could do nothing but gape at the intruder that stood in their dining room with his back turned to the others. Then a light expression of disgust crossed his features. The youngest man continued to drawl on.

"I fashioned myself a new name, a powerful name, and I would wish for you to call me by it; _Lord Voldemort_." He spun around to face the family again. For a brief moment, his eyes flashed a dark red colour, but it was so quick the family thought to have imagined it.

"So what do you say now? Now that you have finally met your long, lost son and grandson? Hmm? What words of advice do you have for me? What words of consolation do you have for not being there for me?"

No one answered him. Tom Sr. averted his eyes, the look of disgust now clearly across his face. The old man stared blankly at the wall, while his wife looked at Tom Jr. with an incredulous expression, as if to say, "I don't believe you! I want you to go away so that I can get back to my normal life!".

Voldemort leered at them. "There are no words for what you did." He spoke softly to his father.

The old man stood again, coming out of his reverie, "I told you before and I'm telling you again – GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!!!"

"Or you'll what?" asked his grandson lazily. The others stood, too, and joined the old man by his side. The elder opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the intruder, "Yell? Call the police? By all means, do whatever you can – it won't help you."

They glared at him, inexplicably silent once more.

"Now, as I was saying, there are no words for what you did." A quiet rage seemed to build in his voice, and he pulled out the wooden stick swiftly once more. "You have no excuse. _Avada Kedavra_."

Tom Sr. watched in horror as a blinding flash of green light emerged from his son's stick (_wand?_). He covered his eyes and heard his mother scream. A moment later, came the sound of a falling body. He turned to see his mother lying dead on the ground.

"Darling? _Darling!_ What did you do to her?" yelled the eldest man at his grandson.

A grin spread slowly across his face. "I killed her. What does it look like I did?"

The old man's mouth dropped in shock and fear and he couldn't do a thing but stare at the young man as he took aim again and repeated the fatal words.

Another flash of light and falling body later, Tom Sr. Stood in front of Tom Jr., shaking from head to toe in fear, anger, and hate. Tom Jr.'s grin was growing larger as he watched with amusement the look on his father's face. He twiddled his wand between his long fingers playfully, letting the moment drag out.

"W-what do y-you w-want from m-me?"

The young man's grin faded and his eyes locked onto the other's. He answered sharply, "I want you to suffer as I did! You, who abandoned my mother and me. You, who hate what we are. You, who deserves to be punished!" He took a step forward and snarled, "Look at me now! I am far more powerful than you, and I am well on my way to being the most powerful man alive!"

"You're not a man," spat Tom Sr. defiantly. "You're a monster!"

"_Crucio_," said Lord Voldemort without any warning or any emotion.

Tom Sr. was suddenly screaming in agony as a white-hot pain engulfed him; the most unbearable pain he ever felt in his life. He wanted it to stop. He wanted it to end. He wanted to die rather than to suffer as such. Just as soon, the curse that was cast upon him was lifted, and he lay sprawled on the floor, in cold sweat, shaking and making sobbing noises.

A laugh came from the other man, who stood over him; a high-pitched, cold, merciless laugh, that sent shivers down his spine.

"That's one of my personal favourites," commented Voldemort on the spell he had just used. "Are you ready for more?"

He locked gaze with his father once again, the glint of resentment, the blood red in shade of colour returned to his eyes. The older man, lost of all dignity, cried out and covered his face with his arms, "Nooo! P-please! No more! I-I'm sor-sorry… I'M SORRY!!!"

"You're sorry? _Sorry_ is supposed to make up for all of this? Well, I suppose I shall have to show you mercy now, shan't I? I shall have to help you off the ground, and take you into my arms, and hug you like the loving son I'm supposed to be?" He stepped away from his father's weeping figure on the floor. He continued in a dangerously quiet voice, "_Lord Voldemort gives mercy to no one. You belong on the ground, you WRETCHED MUGGLE!!!_" His voice was rising now, ever so slightly with each syllable, "I will never go by your filthy name, ever again. Remember me as _Voldemort, the WIZARD who destroyed your life!_"

Tom Sr., who had stopped shaking by now, flinched at the word 'wizard', the look of disgust crossing his face one last time. He looked up at the man that towered above him a few feet away. He had no time to register fear as the sinister and menacing man prepared his wand once more.

"Goodbye. Father."

The flash of green flight of death came for the man cowering on the dining room floor of the Riddle house. It was over. Three bodies lay lifeless and useless on the ground. Voldemort laughed again, his high, cold laugh, in victory as he levitated his victims to their chairs, looks of fear in their eyes, no signs of struggle, and life all gone. He ended the imperturbable charm he had placed on the dining room when he entered.

The young man left the house quietly, locking the door behind him (with magic). He stole away into the blackness of the night, and disappeared from the place as if he had never been there at all. As the hours of the night stretched out, the reign of darkness neared, and the sleeping world would soon be waking to its nightmare.

Epilogue:

Many years later, a wizard named Lord Voldemort started to gain power and supporters. Dark times fell upon the world as he created chaos, confusion, and evil deeds. It would be another decade until his reign was broken and the legend of Harry Potter begins.

Finis 

AN – I had a lot of fun writing this one! I was going to mention, but decided not to, that Tom Jr./Voldemort bought the house and paid for it, you know, to explain the guy who bought it, but never lives in it, and keeps it for tax purposes? That's what I think is the case, anyway… I really hope you enjoyed this. Please review!

Golden Lunar Eclipse


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